


Make Him Jealous

by QueenGremlin



Series: The Thing About Jaskier and Geralt is They're in Love and Incredibly Stupid [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Fluff, Flirting, Gags, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hand Feeding, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Frustration, Sharing Clothes, Teasing, Winter At Kaer Morhen, jaskier is loud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenGremlin/pseuds/QueenGremlin
Summary: [He didn’t want to do this. It was downright humiliating. Yennefer was the only person he felt truly comfortable to talk about his sex life with. “Yen!” He shouted as he burst through her doors. “I need a sex potion or something!”]Geralt brings Jaskier back home for the winter and refuses to fuck him, so Jaskier must get creative.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Thing About Jaskier and Geralt is They're in Love and Incredibly Stupid [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819198
Comments: 17
Kudos: 336





	Make Him Jealous

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended you read the first part of this series, but not necessary.

  
  


  
  


He almost died! Jaskier almost froze to death, at least that’s what he was telling the other Witchers as they all gathered around the large oak dinner table, dizzy on ale, and bellies filling with proper food. Geralt watched fondly with a hidden smile behind his hand. Jaskier wasn’t far from the truth, he wasn’t near death, and the trip up the mountain had been especially trying. A blizzard had been looming over them for days, when they reached the bottom of the mountain, they had the difficult decision of holding out until the storm passed, or to head up the mountain and try to beat it. Geralt figured, either way, posed a difficult series of outcomes for Jaskier, their best shot would be getting to the guild as quickly as they could rather than staying as sitting ducks. So, they began their journey, Jaskier on foot, and Geralt on Roach.

“That bastard!” Jaskier’s voice rose to a high pitched near squeal. “Made me walk!”

He made him walk the first hill, then he grabbed him, put him in front of himself, and held him close as they continued their journey. Geralt even allowed Jaskier to lean back on him so he could be comfortable. He  _ even  _ kissed Jaskier’s cheek just because he wanted to. By gods, he was trying to be good at this relationship thing.

“And- and! I almost froze to death!”

“Geralt!” Lambert gasped. “You absolute monster!”

“How dare I,” Geralt answered in a monotone reply.

Geralt wouldn’t have let Jaskier freeze, as soon as Jaskier started to shiver, Geralt stopped, dismounted and pulled out a quilt and extra shirts to wrap around Jaskier and for him to wear. He also kept a firm hand around his bard to try to spread warmth, so no he didn’t almost freeze to death he was just very cold. As the evening started to calm down and after Jaskier insisted on helping Eskel with the dishes- which caused Lambert to complain about how he never had a pretty bard to help him which caused Geralt to glare at him and make an empty threat. After Geralt had set the story straight about how Jaskier did not almost freeze, and after he helped Lambert and Vesemir take care of the horses. The two men found themselves retiring early to their shared room, under the covers cuddling close together and talking quietly about their day.

“Your brothers are nice,” Jaskier commented as he tucked his nose under Geralt’s jaw. “You clearly take after Vesemir, quiet, stoic, incredibly sexy.” He dropped a kiss on Geralt’s throat causing the witcher to hiss and pull the bard closer. “Ciri is quite the little lady,” He mumbled, pulling away from Geralt’s neck to kiss his nose. Geralt’s eyes were closed, his skin warming under Jaskier’s fingertips, and a lovely smile to let Jaskier know that he was enjoying the affection. Geralt hummed to show he was listening, but too relaxed to actually carry the conversation. Jaskier’s fingers danced over Geralt’s naked bicep tracing the scars that littered his skin. “Yennefer could use some work.” That caused Geralt to snort and lift a lazy hand to swat at Jaskier’s bare chest.

They were laying face to face on their sides, impossibly close, and lazy kisses shared and gentle touches are given. Ever since they got their shit straightened their nights were mostly like it was now. Calm, quiet, and sickeningly sweet. Occasionally before it got too cold they’d lay in front of the fire, stars above them, the dark of night engulfing them and the moans they let escape into the forest they made their camp in. Jaskier couldn’t be happier. The great Witcher was all his, and he didn’t have to share with anyone simply because the Witcher hated everyone but him and his family. “Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. “I love you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt smiled and dropped a kiss to the Bard’s forehead.

^

Jaskier startled awake at the sound of a loud crash. His heart was hammering, and he looked around the darkroom to see a figure swear and bend down. “Whoever the fuck you are-”

“Relax, Dandelion. Just me.”

“What in the bloody hell are you doing up?!” Jaskier rubbed his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Seriously he needed a haircut. Geralt lit a lantern allowing a soft glow to illuminate their room, and Jaskier sat up a bit straighter as he watched Geralt pack a saddlebag. “Going somewhere?”

“A hunt with Lambert,” Geralt replied as he attached his sword to his hip and slung a pack over his shoulder. “Didn’t mean to wake you, but dropped my sword while trying to attach it to my belt.” The witcher truly did look sincere in his apology which just further puzzled Jaskier. Had he not planned to tell Jaskier he was leaving?

“Were you going to leave without a goodbye then?”

“Didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh.” Jaskier hid a frown as he looked around. It was still dark outside with the full moon still shining brightly through the window, and he didn’t miss how it made Geralt’s skin almost like crystal. It was like it was almost glimmering in its pale light. “What kind of hunt?”

“Animal. No contracts remember?”

Jaskier hummed sleep tugging at him. Geralt smiled fondly and made his way to the bed to push Jaskier back down. “I’ll be back later. Go back to sleep.” He then kissed Jaskier’s head.

“Love you,” Jaskier sighed, but with his face pushing into the pillow underneath it sounded more like “luff yuff” Geralt smiled and ruffled his bard’s hair and left.

By the time Jaskier woke again the sun was high in the sky, early morning chickadees and red cardinals singing a lovely melody, and morning snow gracefully falling from the sky. It was quite beautiful around the guild grounds, and Jaskier certainly couldn’t wait until spring came around and things started to bloom. The only downfall about staying with Geralt was that he feared he’d get bored. There wasn’t much for a bard to do when there were four witchers, maybe more to join later and one sorceress and one sorceress/witcher in training. 

Geralt was certainly making himself busy doing what he enjoyed, so Jaskier would do what he enjoyed. He changed into his day clothes, painted on a smile, and grabbed his lute as he headed down to the kitchen with a lute, quill, and notebook in hand. He could faintly hear two witcher’s grunting as they trained and sparred with each other. He half expected to have the kitchen alone, only a much older witcher sat at the head of the table, a large cup with steam coming from it in front of him, and a dusty book in his hand. “My apologies, Mr. Vesemir. Thought all the witchers would be up and gone by now, or maybe even training.”

Vesemir looked up his eyes in a squint, and Jaskier shifted under his gaze and looked around. “Well sit down,” he said in a gruff voice similar to Geralt’s. Jaskier sat down setting his lute on the table along with his quilt and notebook. “Tea?”

“Please.” Jaskier looked around to see if he could see if anyone else had arrived, but it didn’t seem like so. He relaxed his fingers tracing the indentations of his book.

“Your songs are wonderful,” Vesemir smiled as he poured a cup of tea for Jaskier. “Paints us in a good light.”

“Geralt puts you in a good light, sure I embellish some details, but he always saved the day. Never lied about that,” Jaskier took a sip of his tea. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of them.”

“Did you think I lived under a rock?”

“Why no! I just!”

“Relax, boy. You’re family to Geralt so you’re family to me. He tells me you saved him from what would have been death.”

Jaskier choked on his tea, cheeks turning bright red, and after he composed himself he nodded quickly. “He was ghastly! Lucky I’m so forgiving, not that I’d even let him die no matter how mad I was.”

“Mad? Had you two been in an argument?”

Thus, launched a very long, slightly embellished story of how the witcher and the bard ended up together even after what Geralt said. As time drew on, and the topic shifted to other things more about music, some about lore. The conversation only stopped when the door swung open with two large snow-covered witchers. They were arguing. “It wasn’t my fault!” Lambert grunted.

“It would have been enough game to feed us all winter!” They walked toward the kitchen to warm up, Jaskier sat straighter in his seat and watched as Lambert plopped down next to Vesemir. “You scared it away with your loudmouth!” Geralt huffed. Lambert only rolled his eyes and placed his bow and arrows on the table dripping in snow. Jaskier cringed. It’d leave a watermark if he didn’t move them, and with Vesemir glaring at him he was sure that’d be a problem. Geralt came over to Jaskier, dropping a quick kiss to his cheek as a hello.

“What about you?! You spooked ‘em with Roach!”

“Boys,” Vesemir sighed. “You later will have plenty of time to settle your squabbles. Hungry?”

“Starving!” Lambert grinned.

“We wouldn’t be if  _ someone  _ hadn’t spooked the game.”

“That someone better be meaning you lest you want an arrow through the eye.” Lamber glared and Geralt only snorted plopping down in his chair as Vesemir excused himself to fix lunch for everyone. It was then Jaskier realized he hadn’t even eaten breakfast. It was that time his stomach decided to rumble causing a blush to creep up his neck. “Tell me, Jaskier. What’s a pretty lad like you dealing with a slug like Geralt?”

“You fucker,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier chuckled, taking Geralt’s hand in his own. “I mean a man saves you enough times in a lifetime you assume you owe him a decade or two.” Geralt growled, lowering a glare toward Jaskier. “Oh calm down, you know I’m only teasing, love.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “So what’s a bard to do around here?” Jaskier asked as he leaned on the table. “As lovely as it was talking to Vesemir, I can’t expect to annoy him every day, so what is there to do around here.”

“Well I could certainly use you in my bedroom after eight if you’d so like,” Lambert tossed a wink at Jaskier who only blushed. He was about to make a comment but Geralt’s hand was on his thigh harshly squeezing.

“Chores,” Geralt gritted. “Like we all do to keep this place up and running nicely.”

“Well, alright then,” Jaskier smiled. “Until then, anyone fancy a tune?”

“I’d love to hear it, make it filthy.”

Jaskier winked this time and began to pluck out a tune on his lute, Geralt’s hand never moved from his thigh, and his eyes never left Jaskier’s face. Jaskier was almost positive he’d be sure to have the fucking of his life later that night.

^

He was wrong. Geralt had gone to sleep the moment he crawled into bed, not caring about the still lit lanterns, so Jaskier had to go to the bathhouse to take care of himself after thinking about everything Geralt would do to him for the better half of the day. After his bath he’d been headed back to his room when he bumped into Yennefer, she’d been wearing a long silk garb that was clearly imported. “Jaskier,” she practically sneered.

“Yennefer.”

“Must say the crows’ feet are looking marvelous as ever,” she smiled with squinted eyes.

“Ah yes, but remind me who  _ your _ man now fucks? Immortal witch or mortal aging bard with crows feet?” Jaskier pretended to think on his statement as Yennefer went rigid, her posture stiffening, but then she did the oddest of things. She extended her hand, perfect nails, perfect skin extended out toward Jaskier. He eyed her carefully because she had more power in the nail of her pinkie and forgive him if he was cautious about shaking the hand of a sworn enemy.

“Relax, Bard. It’s a truce. Geralt clearly cares for you, and I’m bonded to him by child and wish. It would be in our best interest to let go of the past and embrace our destiny.”

Jaskier took her hand in hers, surprised by its warmth, and how delicately she held onto his hand. “I still don’t like you.”

“And I don’t like you. We’ll be civil for the child.”

Jaskier nodded curtly as he moved away from her still distrusting her sudden need to make things right with her. She sighed and crossed her arms again and looked at him with boredom. “Relax, Jaskier. I have no ill intent and though it pains me to say. I’m glad you and Geralt both decided to pull your heads out of your arses.”

Jaskier allowed a smile toward her which caused her to grunt and push passed him. “I thought your room was the other way!” He called causing her to turn around not stopping her walking as she hid a smirk.

“You have your witcher and I have mine!”

Jaskier snorted and went back into his shared room with one snoring witcher. Geralt was cute when he slept, pillow clutched to his chest, snoring that sounded a lot like a wolf growling, and all the worry went from his body with no tension holding in his back. He looked peaceful. Jaskier crawled into bed next to his witcher and laid on his side to face him. “You smell,” Geralt growled an arm snaking around Jaskier.

“Impossible I just bathed.”

“Like sex.”

“Well, Mr. White Wolf, you left me to take care of myself.” Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt and snuggled closer. “I had been worked up all evening.”

“Hm?” Geralt hummed and his eyes were still closed but he continued to bury his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck inhaling deeply and planting lazy kisses onto the place that connects neck and shoulder. Jaskier could feel himself getting worked up again, Geralt finally giving him the attention he so desperately wanted, but then Geralt was pulling away from him a little. “Calm down,” he whispered. “We shouldn’t do anything here. House full of witchers with sensitive hearing.”

“But Yennefer is with Lambert right now!” Jaskier accused. “Surely you hear it!”

“She cast a spell to dim the sound. We don’t have such luxury. Get some sleep.”

Jaskier allowed Geralt to hold him close, but still allowed his annoyance to fester. Fucking bullshit is what it was. He didn’t give a fuck if the others could hear him -- hell let them listen to how good Geralt treats him. Fuck let them watch. He didn’t care. He just wanted his witcher again. Geralt snuggled closer (while terrible with words he always made Jaskier feel loved with his copious amounts of cuddling) Geralt had this habit to curl around Jaskier, his head on his shoulder, and leg tossed over the other’s waist. It made them both feel safer, Jaskier knows he’ll never be hurt, and Geralt knowing his bard is safe in his arms. Within a few minutes Jaskier could hear Geralt’s snoring and decided to try to sleep too.

^

It had gone on for exactly three weeks that they had been home. Geralt would wake early, go do something with one of the other witchers, and be gone for most of the day. Jaskier managed to rile himself up more than once during those dreadful three weeks. He was at his wits end! He was desperate to get his witcher to pay him some attention. Sure, cuddling was nice. Yes, a kiss to the cheek or on top of the head in front of the others made a blush bloom across his cheeks. He thought that without the impending loom of danger that they’d actually be able to spend time together, get to know Ciri together, and actually just be a normal couple that does things together. So far, Geralt had found every excuse to not spend time with him.

He didn’t  _ want  _ to do this. It was downright humiliating. Yennefer was the only person he felt truly comfortable to talk about his sex life with. “Yen!” He shouted as he burst through her doors. “I need a sex potion or something!”

“Jaskier!” She hissed her violet eyes cutting to Ciri. “A child is present.”

“My apologies, Princess. Do you mind giving us the room?” Jaskier gave her a wink that made her blush, and she looked toward Yennefer for approval.

“Go. You’re late for a lesson with Vesemir.”

As soon as Ciri left, Yennefer turned a glare at Jaskier as she leaned against her table and her long nails drummed against the hardwood. “I see you prove true to your name. Like a weed, you just keep popping up in unwanted places.”

“A dandelion is a flower.”

“It’s an ugly weed. What do you want?”

“You’re rude.”

“And you came bursting into my room ranting about sex potions in front of a child, so I ask again what do you want?”

If looks could kill Jaskier would have been squirming on the floor as his bones collapsed in on themselves. Jaskier sighed and invited himself to sit in a red plush chair that was in the corner of Yennefer’s room. Yennefer’s glare sharpened. “I thought coming to Kear Morhen would mean a little partner time without impending danger. Yet, he’s nearly completely ignored all my advances saying we can’t fuck because the other would hear! Tell you the truth, I don’t really give a fuck. I am a selfish man with selfish needs that have yet to be met. So yes, Yennefer, I need a sex potion. Or at least a potion to dim sound!”

“You interrupted my lesson because Geralt is busy doing other things and not you?” Yennefer asked her voice closest to a growl it's ever been in Jaskier’s presence. “You do realize I have more power in a strand of my hair right? I could fucking smite you with a flip of my hair.”

“But you won’t.”

“Confident enough to bet your life?”

“Yennefer,  _ please _ . Do you think I’d ask you of all people for help if I weren’t desperate?” Jaskier snapped and sighed exasperatedly. He gently massaged his temples as if this problem was the greatest feat he had to face. Yennefer’s glare melted into the look of a trickster and Jaskier braced himself for her next comment.

“Maybe you don’t keep him satisfied,” she said casually as she began to move around the room fixing it to proper appearance. “You know, I find he gets the loudest when you lick his-”

“Fuck off!” Jaskier huffed. “I keep him plenty satisfied, and he likes it better when I do it.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you make yourself irresistible?” She asked as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Jaskier took a fraction of a second to be offended because he considered himself constantly irresistible. It was rude of Yennefer to even consider that he had a single moment where he wasn’t. “I mean, we both know Geralt is a man of jealousy. Make him jealous.”

“And how the fuck shall I do that? Hmm?”

“You’ve got three other witchers in this guild who I’m sure would all love a piece of you, and you’ve got a  _ witch  _ who personally loves to drive witchers up a wall after they make reckless wishes.”

“I’m not going to cheat-”

“Nobody is asking you to. Just flirt a little, here I’ll even start it, take this lotion. It's infused with magic and will keep you younger until more permanent measures are taken,” Yennefer handed him a small bowl and he took it examining it suspiciously. “I didn’t poison it, relax!”

“Never can be too careful with you,” Jaskier mumbled. “But how is this supposed to make Geralt jealous? I mean he ages slowly anyway?”

“You really are a bleating idiot. The lotion is just a prop, sure whatever helps you not to age for a while, but put it on in front of Geralt and mention how you and I are now the best of friends.”

“You’re smart,” Jaskier nodded. “Wear earplugs!” He called over his shoulder as he left her room leaving her slightly disgusted. The day continued on as normal, Geralt came back, found him and gave him a kiss, and then went to wash up for dinner that Jaskier helped prepare.

After dinner when they found themselves in each other’s company, a soft glow of fire lit lanterns, and Jaskier sat at the desk chair in front of a water basin. It wasn’t the first time Geralt sat reading idly on the bed as Jaskier applied numerous creams, oils, and lotions with the light hum on his tongue. Once Geralt had asked why he did that, and Jaskier had laughed loudly and said “At a certain age natural beauty is no longer beauty.” Geralt disagreed but didn’t push it. He came accustomed to the smells of the different lotion mixing with Jaskier’s natural amber scent.

“New lotion?” He asked as he flipped the page in his dusty book, his golden eyes flickered to Jaskier to see if he had heard him, and then he crossed his ankles and continued to read.

“Oh yes!” Jaskier said excitedly. “Smells heavenly, doesn’t it? Yennefer gifted it to me, says it’ll keep me young.” Geralt set the book on his lap and scrunched up his eyebrows looking at Jaskier as if he had grown two heads.

“Yennefer?” He echoed. “Gave you a cream to make you live longer? You just fucking trusted her?”

“Why yes? She’s a friend after all. Wouldn’t do me no harm.”

The look on Geralt’s face then nearly caused Jaskier to burst into laughter, wide golden eyes, eyebrows close to meeting his hairline, and mouth slightly open in pure shock. Jaskier only beamed at him and continued to apply the new lotion. Geralt grunted and turned back to his book. Jaskier’s movements stuttered for a moment. So he licked his lips and started again. “Oh yes, Yen and I, best of friends. I think she and I may go for a brisk walk to gather herbs tomorrow. You’re okay with that? I mean, does it  _ bother  _ you? Your old lover and your new and much more handsome lover getting along?”

“Should it?” Geralt asked, his eyes still scanning the pages in his book. “It’s great you two are getting along. Better for Ciri that way.”

Jaskier sighed and capped his lotion and washed his hands and moved to the bed. That didn’t go as planned at all, and he was more than frustrated with the entire situation. Jaskier crawled into bed yanking the covers over him. “Suppose so. Yes.” Jaskier leaned over and planted a kiss on the corner of the witcher’s mouth. “G’night. Love you.” Geralt hummed and kissed Jaskier quickly on the mouth. Then went back to reading.

Jaskier rolled over and stared at the wall. How could Geralt be so oblivious? He once told Jaskier he could smell when he was turned on, and for the last few days he had to be reeking of it. Yet, not even a muscle twitched to reach out for Jaskier. He had to just get more creative. Maybe find another handsome witcher to flirt with. Within a few more minutes he heard Geralt close his books and place it on the table next to the bed, and blow out the lantern. Within a few more minutes strong arms were wrapping around his waist and a face was nuzzling against his shoulder as the breathing slowed. Jaskier sighed and decided to match the slow breathing and lull himself from arousal to sleep.

^

It came to him when he was doing laundry. He was helping out by washing some clothes when he came across a blue chemise, not Geralt’s, but he faintly remembered seeing Eskel in it once or twice around the guild. He grinned as the idea blossomed through his mind like a big beautiful flower. He tossed the chemise into his basket and walked back toward the separate rooms with more baskets to put the clothes away. Certainly different from his usual job of entertaining. Still, he was happy to be useful.

By the time dinner rolled around with bells sounding. He had changed into Eskel’s blue chemise, and waltzed into the dining hall and plopped down next to Eskel. “Is that my shirt?” He asked, catching Geralt’s attention. Yennefer smirked and shifted in her seat urging Ciri to start eating.

“Oh is it? Must’ve gotten mixed in with my clothes,” Jaskier shrugged, ignoring Geralt’s eyes desperately trying to catch the bard’s eyes. “I’ll return it after dinner. Honestly, not surprised I mistook it. I own so much blue, people always told me it brings out my eyes! What do you think?” Jaskier propped his chin up with his hand and batted his eyelashes just to look extra innocent. Yennefer snorted but remained silent.

“Jaskier-”

“They are very pretty,” Eskel nodded. “Very pretty.” His eyes flickered from Jaskier’s eyes to his lips, and Jaskier caught it and shifted away to continue eating, feeling his cheeks heat in a blush that for once wasn’t caused by Geralt. Geralt sat across from Jaskier, spoon clutched in his hand, and his jaw set in anger. His bard  _ flirting  _ with someone who was like a brother to his own partner. As dinner dragged on he was silent, brows furrowing in thought, and ignoring any advances Jaskier made with his feet knocking into his.

Again, they were finally alone, Jaskier at his water basin doing his nightly routine. Geralt was in bed, watching Jaskier with laser precision, and Jaskier could feel the golden eyes tracking his every movement. His hands gently massaging his face, rubbing up his arms, and dancing over his legs.  _ This is it _ he thought with a small chuckle. There was no way that Geralt would be able to resist him now. He smelled like heaven itself, and surely Geralt was riled up from dinner. He had to be. Jaskier glanced over his shoulder at the witcher to see him quickly look down at his hands picking at a new wound he got while hunting earlier. “Don’t pick it,” Jaskier chided softly. “You’ll make it worse.”

“Bed soon?” Geralt asked. Jaskier’s heart leaped.  _ Finally.  _ Jaskier took a few deep calming breaths and washed his hands and nodded walking over to the bed, he added an extra sway to his hips, and crawled on the bed to his witcher. “You are wearing Eskel’s chemise to bed?”

Something flashed in Geralt’s eyes. Dominance and something else hidden. Jaskier looked down at the fabric that drooped off his body, and covered a decent amount of his underclothes. He lifted his shoulders in an innocent shrug looking at Geralt through his lashes. Geralt sighed. “Alright then.”

Geralt kissed Jaskier’s cheek and then slouched down in bed his scarred back toward the bard. Jaskier nearly groaned out in protest because clearly this whole jealousy thing wasn’t working. He apparently wasn’t irresistible enough, so he was going to have to turn it up a few notches to really get Geralt riled up. It was no longer a mission of trying to get his boyfriend to fuck him. It was now a game. How far can he go before Geralt steps in? On the road, he had to just wink at someone, and the poor bastard would nearly explode.

^

The next evening he sat in the common area, lute in his lap, Ciri on the floor near the fire singing along with him. Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir, and Yennefer gather around listening to the energetic piece. Geralt had excused himself after dinner to tend to the horses despite the fact they had already been tended to by Lambert. “Vesemir! Will you dance with me!” Ciri had leapt to her feet and held out a hand. Jaskier hadn’t intended to attempt to make Geralt jealous, but an opportunity arose how could he not? The wheels in his head began to turn on how to get into the arms of another witcher while playing.

Vesemir smiled something soft and stood from his spot from his chair and joined hands with Ciri leading her around the room in something less formal than a waltz. Then magic floated through the room, and his lute began to play itself! “Dance with us, Bard.” Yennefer said from Eskel’s arms. He hadn’t noticed everyone dancing. He stood and grabbed Lambert’s hand with a shy smile.

“Got two left feet I’m ‘fraid.” Lambert said with a lopsided grin.

“If I can teach Geralt I can teach you. Follow me.”

They all danced around the common area, laughs filling the space, and all wearing bright smiles drenched in joy. Jaskier had been pressed up against Lambert when Geralt walked in from tending the horses. He cleared his throat which caused heads to turn, he looked stiff with tension in his jaw and shoulders, and his hands were balled into fists. “Geralt!” Ciri laughed happily, rushing to him and yanking at his arm. It took him several moments to look away from Lambert’s arm that pulled Jaskier oh so close to him and look down at his adopted daughter. “Dance with me!” Of course, had it been anyone else he would have made a sour face and declined. It was Ciri and he had an incredible hard time telling her no.

Jaskier’s heart swelled as he watched Geralt lead her around the room in practiced moves, Ciri looking graceful as ever and looking graceful as ever and Geralt looking focused while he concentrated on the movements that he was taught by his partner. Jaskier smiled at the memory.

It had been a particularly chilly night, trees were bare giving an unsettling appearance, but the stars were above them in a bright glow. The fire between them cast a soft warm feel over them, but Jaskier wanted to move, unable to sit still. He’d pulled Geralt up close to him. “There’s no music.” Geralt had complained when Jaskier began his impromptu lesson. “Well, I can’t very well play and be a dancer partner.”

He could feel Geralt’s eyes on him as he led Lambert around the room. Holding him close, and occasionally leaning to whisper a correction in his ear. Of course, to Geralt it looked like he was whispering something flirty with the way Lambert smiled and stiffened with tension. Fuck, he was jealous.

He stumbled a bit causing Ciri to giggle. He stopped their dancing and looked around. “I think it's late,” he said. She began to protest but he gave her that “stern father” look as Jaskier called it. She sighed. “Bed. Please.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

“Say your goodnights,” he told her.

Ciri went to Yennefer and leaned up kissing her cheek while Yennefer hugged her tight. “Sleep tight, dear.” Yennefer smiled at her. A smile warm with love.

“Good night, Jaskier.”

Jaskier leaned against Lambert and he smiled at her and crouched down patting his cheek with his finger. Ciri smiled and quickly kissed his cheek. “Night, princess. Sleep well with sweet dreams of gumdrops and honey.”

“Will you teach me lute someday?” She asked with a fire lit in her eyes. Jaskier ignored the excited build in his stomach that made his heart swell even more. He nodded with a large smile.

“Only if you promise to practice every day after.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt warned.

“Right. Right. Bed now. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he smiled and kissed her head.

The music died down as the night grew later with ale buzzing in their systems. “Well,” Jaskier clapped. “I am fucking exhausted. I think I’ll turn in tonight!” He looked over his shoulder at Lambert with a flirty smile. “Thanks for the dance, handsome.”

“Anytime,” Lambert grinned. “If you get tired of that lug you let me know.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss Lambert’s cheek in a completely platonic way. If Geralt let a soft growl for his ears only then so be it. Jaskier bid everyone else a good night with a small bow and with a lute in hand walked to his partner who was leaning against the wall and only slightly leaned down for Jaskier to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Will you come up now?” Jaskier asked.

“In a while,” Geralt mumbled. Jaskier nodded and kissed Geralt’s cheek and went upstairs to their chambers. Geralt took a seat after Jaskier left and was silent as they continued to talk amongst themselves. Geralt occasionally added his own opinions on certain subjects. Finally, it dwindled to only Yennefer and Geralt.

An awkward tension filled the air between them without the buffer of other people around. Yennefer took a sip from her wine and crossed her legs as she stared at Geralt. “How’s it going with the bard?” She asked casually.

“I think he’s come to his senses.” Geralt kept his stoic look. He seemed unbothered by the fact that his bard had come to his senses, or what he thought was his bard coming to his senses. Yennefer stared at him, peaked in intrigue, and then she laughed something full and boisterous. “What?” Geralt asked.

“You both are imbeciles. Come to his senses? He’s trying to make you jealous!”

“Jealous?”

Yennefer leaned back in her chair, her wine glass empty and on the table in front of her, and her nails tapping against the wood in the chair. “C’mon Witcher. You’re smarter than this. That boy is all want for you, eager to please, and  _ begging  _ for your attention. Yet, you told him you couldn’t fuck him because someone might hear. Gods!”

Geralt frowned. He thought about the events of the last few weeks, Jaskier flirting with his brothers, and befriending Yennefer. He chuckled to himself at his bard’s desperate attempts that he so easily looked over. He had assumed Jaskier lost interest in him. Now he was curious just how far Jaskier would go to get his attention. “I just thought,” Geralt hummed. “I didn’t think that he’d go such lengths just for me.”

“Save the self-pity and do us all a favor and go fuck your bard.”

“Not yet.”

Yennefer didn’t bother to ask, instead, she got up, smoothed her dress, and walked away with a heavy sigh and a reminder to make earplugs. Geralt went up to his shared room with ideas flitting through his mind. If it was a game Jaskier wanted, then it was a game he would get.

^

A week went by with Jaskier flirting his way through the guild, desperately trying to get Geralt’s attention, and to get him so riled up he’d have no choice but to fuck Jaskier until they both were unable to speak. So far it wasn’t working, or maybe it was. Geralt had become more handsy, groping Jaskier at any chance he got, and kissing him in his most sensitive non-sexual spots. It would be a kiss to the shell of his ear as he passed him in the kitchen as they did dishes, it was a kiss to his neck as they laid in bed before they both drifted to sleep, and a kiss to right below his earlobe masked as a kiss to the cheek when he returned from a chore. Jaskier was beside himself. Geralt was nearly unaffected by any of his bard’s efforts, but Jaskier was riled up tightly by the coil of heat that stayed at the bottom of his belly.

Jaskier was sitting in the common area with Eskel, he was wearing one of Geralt’s warmer chemises, a black one that was lined with fleece for warmth. It was far too big for Jaskier’s slim frame, but it kept that bard warm on the chilliest of days. Eskel was listening to Jaskier play while eating berries leftover from the summer bloom. The door swung open allowing the freeze to blow in and surround Jaskier in a shiver. “Oy! You’re lettin’ the fire out!” Eskel huffed, interrupting Jaskier’s soft melodies.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Lambert chided. “We caught dinner. Hope everyone likes squirrels.”

Jaskier made a face at the game that Lambert held, still dripping with melting ice and blood, and Jaskier looked away at the more appetizing berries in the bowl on Eskel’s lap. Even if the summer bloom had been months ago the berries still popped with color and were oozing with juices that mixed at the bottom of the bowl. He reached over plucking a red berry from the pile and popped it into his mouth, the juice dribbling over his chin and lips. He wiped it away with his thumb then sucked it off.

Geralt hadn’t meant to allow his breath to hitch. Hadn’t meant to allow anyone to hear it. Jaskier’s big, innocent eyes were on him in the instant. Only this time Geralt didn’t miss the way Jaskier smirked as he turned his attention to Eskel. “Another song?” He asked.

“If you please,” Eskel nodded. “Your voice is lovely.”

“You should hear it put to other uses,” Jaskier winked and glanced toward Geralt who had sat down across from them near the fireplace. He was stiff under his armor, clearly, the comment had made him bristle a little with jealousy. Jaskier began to strum something soft to fit the mood, occasionally humming along, but allowing the silence to lull the witchers into a sort of peace. “Eskel, dear, give me a berry?”

Jaskier leaned forward never stopping his music flow and wrapped his lips around a ripe strawberry, feeling Geralt’s eyes prick him with daggers, as he slowly bit into the plump strawberry, and giggled as juice coated his lips and dripped down his chin. Geralt shifted in his seat as he looked away from  _ his  _ bard eating a fucking strawberry from Eskel. As Jaskier chewed he moaned something that sent Geralt’s blood rushing through his body to his nether regions, so he shifted in his seat again.

Jaskier sucked on his bottom lip to get the juices off, and then let his tongue dart out to gather any excess that he missed. Geralt was squeezing the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white, and if he could fully blush, he’d be redder than a cherry. “How ‘bout a cherry?” Jaskier asked. Geralt was looking over Jaskier, watched as his fingers danced along the strings, and watched how his lips always reached the fruit first and coated the juices on his bottom lip. Jaskier was intoxicating to watch. Especially to a witcher that had been on edge since they arrived at the damned place with Jaskier constantly smelling like the hot spice of arousal. Geralt’s fingers twitched for his bard. He wanted to touch, to lick, to bite, to whisper filthy things into his ear, to make him scream so loud it was no doubt who the bard belonged to despite the insistent flirting.

Jaskier hummed in approval licking his lips, and then glanced over Geralt with those goddamned blue eyes.  _ Geralt’s  _ shirt hung loosely on Jaskier, exposing a shoulder and more of his neck, and Geralt forced his eyes away from the exposed spot to meet the blue eyes that begged for him. Gods. He wanted to make him plead. Make him beg to be fucked. Geralt shook his head and nonchalantly spread his legs in a more comfortable position to sit in. Jaskier’s jaw clenched as he tilted his head looking over Geralt.

For a moment it was only them in the room. Music danced around them, lifting their bodies, and only the two men were there staring at each other. Tension flooded in with the melody, filling their bodies with such intense heat that even in the dead of winter they were sweating, and Jaskier didn’t know how much longer he could take with just staring, with silently begging, and with Geralt ignoring his every need. He almost let out an embarrassing whine until he tasted the sweet of another berry pushing past his lips and resting on his tongue. He looked back at Eskel giving him a smile as thanks.

At dinner, the tension grew even more. Jaskier was on edge, his legs squeezing together in an attempt for relief, and a light blush coating his cheeks in fear that the other witcher’s had sensitive noses like Geralt and would smell just how desperate he was for Geralt. He tried to carry on like normal, talking, and telling stories when prompted. Of course, despite sitting next to Geralt, he continued to flirt with anyone that allowed it.

Lambert and Eskel were getting a kick out of feeding Jaskier for one of two reasons. The first reason was that they loved teasing their witcher brother and making him angry and jealous, and the second reason was that Jaskier was the prettiest thing in the guild asides from Yennefer and Yennefer wasn’t willingly allowing anyone to feed her in front of company because she had standards. Of course, Eskel and Lambert knew they were being used by the bard to make Geralt jealous, but neither really cared if it was something to do during their stay at the Witcher’s School.

Jaskier was leaning across the table to take a bite of Lambert’s pudding, the witcher purposely getting some of the sweet on Jaskier’s nose and lips and watched with an amused look as Jaskier brought up his finger gathering the cream from his lips and sucking it off. “I’d like to remind you, boys, that there is a child present,” Yennefer sighed.

Her remark was slightly ignored as Jaskier sat back in his chair, pudding still on his nose, and Geralt on instinct reached out swiping the pad of his thumb against Jaskier’s rosy, button nose. He collected the cream, and then brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking the cream off in one clean swipe of his tongue. “Melitele’s tits,” Jaskier murmured and sat forward in his chair. Geralt sighed and leaned back satisfied he had such an effect on the bard.

Later that night after dinner and everyone retired to their quarters, Jaskier laid on the bed propped up against the headboard and fought the urge to beg Geralt for his attention. Geralt was stepping out of his armor and gathering soaps and oils. “I’m going to bathe.”

“Good,” Jaskier said, his eyes raking over Geralt’s body clad in casual wear. “You smell.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and left to go to the baths. As soon Geralt was gone, Jaskier was shimmying his pants off and grabbing hold of himself in a hurried action. Mind foggy with need and lust. He stroked himself quickly, his breathing erratic, and his body shuttering all over as relief struck its final chord. He let out a moan, not even sure if it was quiet. Stroking his own cock wasn’t enough, no, he wanted to be fucked. He quickly (and clumsily) scrambled himself to his knees and looked around for oil. He grabbed one that’d smell like lavender and quickly slicked up his own hand. He braced himself with one hand on the bed pole at the end of the bed, and carefully worked his own finger inside of himself. Moaning at the feeling, finally giving himself what he craved, and he sighed breathing heavily. Quickly began working himself open, puffs of breath leaving his body in shutters as pleasure washed over him, and sweat beading on his flushed face and under the fleece of Geralt’s shirt.

Gods. He looked sinful. Hand tucked behind him, back arched and head tilted back exposing his neck and the prompt vein there, the black fleece pooling around him as a stark contrast to his milky thighs, his other hand white-knuckled around the bedpost. His breathing was shallow, and his moans were throaty and ever so needy. He worked a second finger in, causing his eyes to widen at the stretch and he moaned at the feeling. He wished it were Geralt, wished it were his witcher filling him, and not his own fingers instead. He gulped at fresh air, forgetting to breathe for a moment, and slowly attempted to grind on his fingers. “C’mon,” he moaned. “Gods, Geralt.” He grunted, imaging his witcher filling him, stretching him, using him to get off. “Fuck fuck, feels,  _ oh _ !” He added a third just as the door opened. He stopped and stared wide-eyed at the door.

Geralt was wet, his body glistening and filling the towel wrapped around his waist. “Fucking hell, Jask.”

Jaskier was breathing hard. Staring at his witcher, for once this wasn’t part of the plan, and he really meant to finish before Geralt got back. How could Geralt really bathe in peace when he could hear his bard panting his name without even being there. “Geralt,” Jaskier whined, not quite sure what he was begging for. “Please, oh pretty please.”

Geralt stalked up to the end of the bed, caressed Jaskier’s cheek with a rough and calloused hand, and then rested it on the base of Jaskier’s neck causing the bard to whine. “What?” Geralt asked. Jaskier wiggled his hips causing a moan to escape his lips. “Oh? Was that what you were doing? Enticing me?”

No, it wasn’t, but Jaskier felt the smirk appear on his lips. “Did it work?”

“Hmm.”

Oh, it worked. It so worked. Geralt’s pupils were already so blown with just a sliver of gold peeking out. He moved to his saddle pack and Jaskier continued to pleasure himself now that he had a nearly naked witcher in front of him. He whimpered trying to get a pace set for fucking himself with his fingers. “I n-need you,” Jaskier whimpered. “Please love. Help me.”

Geralt looked over his shoulder. It was a look that made every hair on Jaskier’s body stand on edge, it was almost evil, and it was so incredibly sexy. Jaskier watched with wide eyes as Geralt pulled out a large bit of cloth, and Jaskier caught on in almost an instant and moaned already nodding his head in agreement. “Can’t have you being too loud,” Geralt whispered as he walked behind Jaskier making the bard freeze. Geralt’s sword-calloused hands rubbed over the back of Jaskier’s neck. He carefully tied the cloth around Jaskier’s mouth, Jaskier moaned around the cloth sounding muffled and needy, Geralt felt a satisfaction course through his veins. Jaskier stayed with one hand three fingers deep in himself completely still, and his other hand white-knuckled around the bedpost. Geralt placed one hand on the bard’s shoulder, his thumb pressing into the top of his spine at the base of his neck, and his other fingers biting into the flesh over his collar bone. With his other hand, he pulled on Jaskier’s wrist removing his hand from his hole, and before Jaskier could even get out a whine he felt Geralt shove three of his fingers in. Jaskier let out a string of muffled curses, his body lurching forward and if it wasn’t for the hand on his shoulder he would’ve landed face-first onto the hard mattress.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier wanted to see him, wanted to flop back onto his back, and stare at Geralt while he fucked his fingers into him. He also wanted that towel gone. “Should I get my brothers? Maybe you’d prefer them? Hmm?” Geralt asked as he curled his fingers just the right way causing Jaskier to shutter. He looked at Geralt with wide eyes, confusion clouding them, and a frown forming on his lips. “What? Not a fan? You’ve been flirting with them since you got here.”

Jaskier was rapidly shaking his head no with a stern look so Geralt knew that was  _ off  _ the table. Jaskier was no prude, he’s had multiple men in bed before, hell he’s had men and women at once, and he’s never had a problem with it. This was Geralt, and Geralt was his no matter what the witcher claimed. He was his to see, his to feel, his to suck whenever he so pleased. Besides, Lambert and Eskel were like brothers to Geralt and that just felt wrong. Suddenly he was being pushed forward onto his forearms, and his head hanging low at the new angle. Geralt’s fingers brushing against his prostate. “Maybe I should get Yen?” Jaskier went frigid and looked over his shoulder in a glare at his partner. “No? I thought you two were friends.”

Geralt. Was. His.

Jaskier didn’t know how else to get it through the witcher’s head. He wanted nobody else to see him but him. For now on until one of them died he would be the  _ only  _ one to see the witcher naked for sexual purposes. Geralt slyly grinned down at him, his hand scratching his back from his shoulder to his arse, and he harshly squeezed causing Jaskier to moan a muffled moan. “Maybe I should fuck her and make you watch? Give you a taste of your own medicine.” Jaskier babbled around in what Geralt assumed was a protest, his eyebrows were furrowed, and Geralt could tell he was frowning at the mere thought of Geralt fucking someone that wasn’t him.

Geralt only grinned slyly at the bard and gave his ass another harsh squeeze. “Huh,” Geralt hummed. “Don’t like that idea? Well, I didn’t like you flirting with my brothers.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened as suddenly Geralt pulled his hands away. Jaskier began making noises of protest, sounds of begging, and pleading for Geralt not to go and fuck Yennefer. Jaskier faintly heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor, goosebumps appeared on his arms, and his breath hitched feeling Geralt’s hands grab his waist. His fingers were squeezing into the little pudge that he carried there, and with the strength Geralt had it would be sure to leave bruises. Jaskier pressed his forehead into the mattress trying to take calming breaths which proved to be difficult with a gag in his mouth, he arched his back a little more just to give Geralt a slightly better angle, and with his cheek pressed to his arms that were tucked under his head. Without any warning Geralt slammed into Jaskier with full force causing Jaskier to move forward with a throaty muffled moan. Geralt didn’t give his bard time to adjust, his mind was just as foggy and full of lust as Jaskier’s was, and all he could really think was on a primal level. Jaskier gasped around the cloth that was shoved in his mouth and tried to push up on his arms, so he was on all fours, but he was too shaky, and pleasure ridden.

Geralt reached for the gag and undid the knot allowing it to fall from Jaskier’s mouth. Immediately he began to babble about really nothing but just how much he loved Geralt and how good he felt. “Don’t make me gag you again,” Geralt growled, snapping his hips forward again.

“FUCK!” Jaskier screamed. “ _ fuckfuckfuckfuck!”  _ He chanted. Always so vocal and chatty even with cock buried in his ass. Jaskier was squirming with pleasure as Geralt set a harsh and fast pace burying his cock into his bard. His fingernails biting into Jaskier’s milky skin. Jaskier was continuously moaning, groaning, or whining as Geralt was growling into his ear. “Geralt,” Jaskier groaned. “Fuck me so good,” Jaskier grunted as his hands tangling into the sheets. “Melitele’s tits, Geralt! Fuck! Love you, love the way you fill me up, Gods love you so much!”

Geralt leaned down and licked along Jaskier’s shoulder, and then harshly bit into the blushed skin. He groaned as he sucked a harsh bruise. “You’re mine,” Geralt growled and bit at the bruising skin again. Jaskier moaned and tried to look over his shoulder at Geralt, but with being on his knees and forearms it was nearly impossible. Geralt seemed to catch on and pulled all the way out of Jaskier causing the bard to whine and complain, but he couldn’t get another protest out before Geralt was shoving his oil coated fingers into his mouth. “Why don’t you shut it for once?” Geralt growled. Jaskier’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as his lips wrapped around Geralt’s fingers. He pretended his fingers was Geralt’s cock as he licked around the tips and sucked harshly with all the force he had in him.

“So flexible,” Geralt grunted as he pushed Jaskier’s leg over his shoulder and lined his cock back up with his hole and slammed back in. Jaskier’s mouth went slack around his fingers so he pulled them out. Geralt could finally watch the expressions that flitted across  _ his  _ bard’s face. He drank in the sight, his oversized fleece shirt pushed halfway up his chest and drooping off the shoulder Geralt previously was biting. Jaskier’s face was flushed, his cock heavy against his belly, and sweat beading down his body. Geralt just wanted to mark him up. Leave him bruised and used.

This time it was like Jaskier had read the witcher’s mind. “Use me,” He panted with a tiny nod. “Just fuck me.” Geralt certainly didn’t have to be told twice. He leaned pinning Jaskier’s hips to the bed and bent down inhaling the scent of arousal that was filling the room. Even more intoxicating was how Geralt’s own scent and Jaskier’s mixed into one. Geralt pressed hot kisses along Jaskier’s exposed shoulder and sucked dark bruises hot in the trail of the wet kisses. “Yes,” Jaskier moaned, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s broad shoulders. The leg that wasn’t over Geralt’s shoulder/bicep was perched against Geralt’s side. His dull nails scratched at his lover’s shoulders, trying to make red marks, trying to mark Geralt like Geralt was marking him. Geralt had switched his tactics, no longer fucking his bard fast and hard, but slow and deep. Hitting every angle until Jaskier made  _ that  _ noise. The high-pitched damn near squeal of pleasure. “Fuck,” Geralt groaned.

They were both sweaty, close to their climax, and desperate to show each other just how much they loved each other. Jaskier tangled his hands in white hair trying to pull him closer. Geralt was already as close as he could be, leaving a wet trail of red marks over Jaskier’s neck and throat. “Let them hear you,” Geralt ordered. “Let them  _ know _ .”

Jaskier moaned as loud as he could, his back arching to meet Geralt’s chest, his cock twitching in his stomach begging for attention after being neglected for so long. Geralt reached down between them giving Jaskier a tight squeeze. “GODS! Fucking dammit! GERALT!” Jaskier's body didn’t know how to react, his hips wanting to jerk forward, his ass wanting to grind backward, and his upper half wanting to arch again. “Like that?” Jaskier panted. “I let ‘em know.”

Geralt groaned and nodded against Jaskier’s neck, his lips dragging over the hollow at the base of his neck. Geralt pressed a kiss there. Jaskier pulled at Geralt’s hair bringing him up to his lips to finally catch him in a heated kiss pouring every ounce of passion he felt into it. Geralt licked into his mouth still tasting the sweetness of the pudding, and then he sucked on his bottom lip nibbling on it as the kiss continued. All the while his thrusts only slowed in speed and went deeper than before. “Gods,” Jaskier sighed, his face falling away from Geralt’s. “Love you so much.”

Geralt hummed euphoria filling his entire system. Heat pooling at the bottom of his stomach, his brain only focused on making Jaskier feel good, pleasing Jaskier, getting Jaskier off, and showing Jaskier who he belonged to. He pulled away to focus on thrusting in time to his strokes. Jaskier’s arms get too heavy to keep his hands tangled in Geralt’s hair. His arms fell above his head, his palms flat against the headboard, and his eyes screwed shut as he made little “uh, uh, uh” noises. Geralt went back to the bite mark on Jaskier’s neck, sucking on it more despite it already being so sensitive. “More,” Jaskier whimpered. “Please more.”

Geralt chuckled and tightened his grip around the bard’s cock and quickened his pace until he was back to slamming into the bard. “Yes,  _ Yes!”  _ Jaskier cried. “Oh! Again! Right there!” Jaskier pleaded and quickly he felt his climax approaching fast and hard. His leg slid from Geralt’s shoulder. “Ride? Please let me?” Jaskier weakly pushed against Geralt’s shoulder with another whine. Geralt quickly dropped Jaskier’s leg and flipped them over. Jaskier moaned and braced himself against his witcher. Staring down at him with awe-struck and teary eyes. “Fucking beautiful you are,” Jaskier groaned as he tested a circular motion with his hips. “So many ballads written about those eyes,” Jaskier continued and rolled his hips. Geralt’s eyes shut tight as a strangled moan clawed its way from his mouth. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Jaskier whispered in a broken off moan. Geralt wasn’t sure how he managed to last this long. He opened his eyes to look up at his Jaskier. His dandelion. Head tilted back, hair plastered to his forehead, chest rapidly rising and falling, and Geralt’s much too big shirt falling around him covering his thighs.

Geralt shoved his hands under the fleece onto Jaskier’s warm milky thighs, his rough fingertips pressing into the soft skin, and feeling the muscle tense as the bard set a beautifully quick pace bouncing up and down on his cock. “Fucking,” Geralt groaned as Jaskier continued to babble shaky praised compliments. “My Jaskier.” He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist helping him to continue to move and burying his face into the bard’s neck. This time on the opposite side of his neck and he started on fresh marks littering Jaskier’s neck. “My dandelion,” He groaned as he sucked on the side of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier hummed in agreement, his arms wrapping close around Geralt’s shoulders using him as leverage to continue pulling himself off his cock to drop back down earning a satisfactory hiss from his lover each time.

“My witcher,” Jaskier agreed. Geralt took a hand and pushed up under Jaskier’s borrowed shirt, brushing against his cock, but ignored it and went straight for his nipple. Geralt groaned as he pinched his lover’s nipple and smiled against Jaskier’s neck when his movements stuttered, and a broken sob escaped his lips.

Geralt licked up Jaskier's neck until he reached his lips and he captured them again. He kissed him hard, shoved his tongue into his mouth, and licked around exploring as if it was their first time kissing despite them having kissed like this a thousand times after the first. Jaskier moaned into his mouth with a sudden gasp as his hips stuttered. He pulled away to utter a small warning, but before he could even utter a single word, he was coming hard and fast. A high-pitched whine escaped his throat, and Geralt followed soon after coming inside his bard, a growl forcing its way out of his mouth and falling against Jaskier’s ear.

They rode out their highs together. Rocking against each other until they slowed to a stop and Jaskier almost immediately fell against Geralt’s chest pushing him against the headboard. He was breathing hard, and Geralt could smell the salt from tears streaking down his cheeks. Geralt stayed still having learned the best comfort for his bard was closeness. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, and gently dragging his fingers up and down his lover’s back. He gently kissed the reddened and bruising marks trying to soothe their sting with his lips.

“You with me?” Geralt softly asked Jaskier and moved back a little to move his hair off his forehead. Jaskier hummed and began to move off of Geralt. He fell next to Geralt with a lopsided grin.

“Finally,” He hummed. Geralt rolled his eyes and nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me! I tried for weeks! Quite exhausting!”

“I know,” Geralt sighed just as smug. Jaskier gasped and turned to the witcher and smacked his chest causing Geralt to shy away from the hits with a light laugh that was specifically reserved for Jaskier.

“You  _ knew _ !” Jaskier gasped.

“hmm.”

“Do not go all Witcher on me! What? Why didn’t you? You bastard?”

“Good things come to those who wait.”

Jaskier gasped and lowered a glare to him, but it held no heat. “Oh shove a cock in it.”

Geralt glanced at Jaskier with a sly smile. “Gladly.”

Jaskier laughed and scrambled away to the end of the bed with a loud laugh as Geralt went to grab his ankle. “No! Don’t you dare touch my poor, depleted, cock!” Jaskier laughed as Geralt yanked him back up to the headboard and settled in the bard’s arms. “Big bad witcher,” He muttered. “Oh, so scary,” He cooed, pinching Geralt’s cheek. “No emotions, no feelings, but the cuddliest goddamn being in the world.”

“Shut it,” Geralt hummed and just to sink it in bit Jaskier’s stomach.

“I think you’ve left enough marks,” Jaskier laughed and giggled as Geralt situated up a little more to bury his face into Jaskier’s neck inhaling deeply to smell himself on Jaskier. “How in the bleating hell am I supposed to explain my neck? New leech deaging therapy?”

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed. Jaskier sighed and forced his tired arms to trace Geralt’s scars on his back. “Hey, Jask?”

“What?” Jaskier asked sleepily.

“Don’t let them touch you again.”

“Don’t make me wait to be fucked again. Deal?”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “Deal.”

Happiness soared through the room, warmth encasing the couple in a picture-perfect night, and neither could feel the cold that night. Geralt allowed Jaskier to hold him, and Jaskier allowed himself to feel loved with the comfort that Geralt would be there when he woke up, and he wouldn’t throw coins in his direction with a muttered apology as he ran out the door. They could sleep peacefully knowing the other wasn’t going anywhere.

^

“Gods,” Jaskier huffed as he looked into the handheld mirror. He was examining his neck, bruises littering almost every inch of his neck, and a bite mark peeking out of his doublet collar. “Geralt look at me! I really do look like I was sucked on by a leech.” Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier which he caught in the mirror. “Albeit, a sexy leech but a leech, nevertheless. What will we say to the others?”

“Pretty sure they heard you, love.”

Jaskier huffed and looked up at Geralt with big pleading eyes, and Geralt sighed and stalked over to his clearly distressed lover. “I like it,” He whispered. “Every single bruise was done deliberately, and they’re meant to be seen.” He pressed a finger into a bruise causing Jaskier to hiss and his cock to twitch in interest. Geralt kissed the top of Jaskier’s head. “I’ve got to tend to the horses before breakfast.”

Jaskier sighed and set the mirror down, but just as Geralt opened the door Jaskier whipped around. “Hey Geralt,” He called. Geralt huffed and turned around with an annoyed expression. “That was the first time you’ve ever called me love. You’ll be saying you love me before you know it.”

Geralt rolled his eyes yet again. “Shut up, Jaskier.” 

With that, he left and Jaskier snorted. “Says the man that begged me to stay here with him.” He heard Geralt snort down the hall.

Jaskier entered the dining hall with a flush to his cheeks not meeting the eyes to any of his friends. “Gods, Jaskier, what happened to your neck?” Ciri asked. Lamber snorted into his drink and Eskel slapped him for it. Jaskier flushed and fumbled for an answer. How old was Ciri? Surely, she knew about sex by now. At least understood hickies, but maybe she wouldn’t want to know they were done by her adoptive father.

“Uh leeches,” Jaskier shrugged. “New therapy, supposed to prevent wrinkles.” He waved a dismissive hand and this time Yennefer snorted. Lambert went to make a comment only attention was drawn to the door Geralt had just walked in.

“You must be the leech,” Ciri commented, not even bothering to look up from her breakfast. Yennefer smiled proudly at her, the other two witcher’s burst into laughter, and Vesemir desperately tried to hide his own chuckle.

Geralt stood stunned at his child's surprise's comment but masked it with his usual stoic appearance and took his seat next to Jaskier. “Fucking leech?” Geralt whispered at Jaskier. Jaskier shrugged innocently.

“You did do a number on him,” Lambert commented. That earned a swift kick to the leg from Geralt and Jaskier. “Ow! Just saying, you didn’t need sensitive hearing to know what was going on.”

“Vesemir! Truly outdone yourself with this breakfast! It’s truly delicious. Best meal I’ve had in ages!” Jaskier babbled in distraction, and under the table he grabbed Geralt’s thigh, squeezing it harshly.

“I guess Geralt’s co-”

“Eskel don’t make me skin that goat of yours and make it tonight’s dinner,” Geralt threatened. Eskel gaped and narrowed a glare at his white-haired brother.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

“Now boys,” Lamber butted in. “No need to get our knickers in a twist over a few hickies.”

“I wasn’t going to talk about the hickies, I was going to talk about his co-”

He was interrupted by Geralt getting up and grabbing the dull knife and heading toward the door. Eskel was up in the next minute rushing after him while shouting. “You plan to skin my goat with a motherfucking butter knife!? Little Bleater deserves better. Geralt!”

Jaskier sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while Lambert cackled, and Yennefer and Ciri shared an amused look and Vesemir excused himself to go break up the fight that started. “Look what you started, Bard.” Yennefer grinned. “All over not getting properly fucked.” Jaskier only innocently shrugged and let the blush creep up his hickey covered neck. At least he had the witcher’s love which no one else could say the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fic! It was fun writing it! Sorry about any errors.....I don't have a beta at the moment. I tried to catch any mistakes. ANYGAYS hope enjoyed....I'm sure there will be more to come.


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